


True to Yourself

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anger Sex, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First time Nate/Eliot fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True to Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)[**angst_bingo**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)'s Hiatus Challenge, for the prompts "crucifixion", "sensory deprivation tank", "physical violence" and "unexpected relations". This is a story idea I'd originally proposed to [](http://sheryden.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://sheryden.dreamwidth.org/)**sheryden** early in Round 2 when she pulled the crucifixion prompt. Hopefully she doesn't mind that I took it for a spin.

  
_Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with thee…_ A single light illuminated the main level of the loft. Nate lifted the rosary in his hand, studying the intricately carved Crucifix as it spun slowly in the air.

 _”I was crucified once. PLO splinter group. No nails, but they tied me to a cross and left me in the desert for days. It was the closest I’ve ever come to death.”_ He’d been looking at the same rosary Nate now held, in its usual place hanging from the mirror over the dresser.

Nate had literally frozen in the act of putting on his robe. Of all the things he’d heard Eliot confess about his past, this was something he’d never imagined knowing. And he’d had no idea what to say in response.

Eliot had spared him coming up with the right words before the silence between them got too awkward; padding barefoot across the thick carpet and pulling him into another kiss. The next hour had passed in a blur of hands and skin and feelings deeper and more intense than Nate had believed possible. His robe had been discarded in a threadbare pool of fabric by his bed, and for a little while at least, his troubled thoughts had stilled.

It was only later, when Eliot lay sleeping beside him, that Nate continued puzzling over everything that had happened – everything they’d shared, everything they’d done that had taken them to bed for the first time, and whatever had happened in that handful of moments that had taken them back to bed for the second.

He’d finally gone downstairs, half-convinced his thoughts were getting loud enough to disturb Eliot’s rest.

_You slept with him._

Now that it could be talked about in the past tense, Nate could finally admit to himself that it was something he’d wanted to do for a while. He loved Sophie, and the two of them were enjoying a healthy sexual relationship that so far seemed to be free of complicated emotional entanglements.

But it was Eliot that he relied on. Eliot who he trusted. There were plenty of complicated emotional entanglements between them that seemed to be getting more complicated by the day, and while the Catholic seminarian in him wasn’t prepared to say that he loved Eliot – the rest of him wasn’t prepared to turn his back on what he was feeling.

Which was why he had goaded Eliot into a fight earlier in the evening. He’d started in the pub downstairs, when the younger man had been flirting with one of the new waitresses. He’d goaded him and poked at him, until the two of them were arguing in earnest.

There’d been a moment where he’d thought Eliot would just leave – but he’d let Nate run him upstairs to the loft, laying into him about his relationship choices the whole way. _And you were in rare form, weren’t you?_ He’d been running on raw emotion, and it had put him in high gear when it came to knowing exactly what to say to piss Eliot off.

The hitter had waited until they were actually in the loft before turning on Nate. “You need to back the fuck off,” he growled, and Nate felt a spark of adrenaline lance through him.

“You need to grow the fuck up,” he’d responded, meeting the younger man’s eyes squarely.

A heartbeat later, he’d been shoved face first into the nearest wall, his arm twisted up hard behind his back. Eliot pressed in close, his breath hot on the skin of Nate’s neck. “You need to remember who you’re talking to.”

He’d spun Nate then, slamming his back hard into the wall – and then they were kissing each other.

“That brain of yours never shuts off, does it?”

Startled out of his reverie, Nate looked up. Eliot had come part way down the spiral staircase while he was lost in thought, and was now sitting on one of the narrow steps. Nate let the rosary drop to the table in a clatter of beads, covering the small pile with his hand. “I was just thinking about what you said earlier. “ He paused, searching a moment for the right words. “I’m…um…trying to decide what I feel about it.”

Eliot’s grin was only slightly mocking. “Everything that’s happened tonight, and _that’s_ what you’re conflicted about?”

Nate chuckled ruefully, ducking his head. “Yeah…well…” His expression was serious again when he looked up at his teammate. “I owe you an apology for being such a prick about things earlier. I’m sorry.”  
****************  
 _Three days in a sensory deprivation tank._ Eliot hadn’t told Nate that part, sensing that the other man was already on emotional overload. The cleric who’d ordered him crucified had first locked him in the tank in order to prepare him to “meet God”.

 _Nearly worked too._ The experience had damaged Eliot’s mind – he’d come out raving, plagued by hallucinations that still occasionally returned to him in his nightmares. Hunger and dehydration had heightened the “elevation” of his senses to the point where he’d completely disconnected from the world around him. Nate was clearly trying to reconcile the horrors of what he understood about crucifixion – for Eliot, the far more terrifying experience had been losing every last bit of who he understood himself to be.

It had taken years and a powerful will to survive to make himself whole again. Eliot didn’t know _why_ he’d survived that particular ordeal, but he’d managed to find peace over the intervening years by not looking at the experience too closely.

He realized Nate was still waiting for his response to the attempted apology and sighed. “I’m not an idiot, Nate. You needed something to give yourself permission for things to happen.” He shrugged. “It’s not like you actually hurt me.”

He’d meant the last part as a joke, but Nate’s shame over how he’d set things up was too all consuming. _You can’t just let yourself be happy, can you?_ he thought, his focus sliding briefly towards the rosary still hidden under Nate’s palm. He’d never understood why people clung so stubbornly to religious practices that condemned them for being true to themselves.

“This…thing…between us,” Nate said, his voice slow and careful. “I’m not imagining it, am I Eliot? It is real, isn’t it?”

It was tempting to give in – to reassure the older man that what he was feeling was real _and_ reciprocated. But Eliot had been around Nate long enough to understand that giving your heart to a man like this was a dangerous business. He shook his head, smiling sadly. “Not this time, man. Whatever this is – if it’s anything beyond some one night stand we never talk about again – you’re going to have to make the first move.”

He paused, letting Nate see some of what he was feeling, and how serious he was. “I’ll protect you from anything that’s out there – I hope you know that by now.”

Stunned into silence, Nate nodded.

Eliot swallowed hard before continuing. “But until you show me it’s safe to do otherwise, I _have_ to be able to protect myself from you. Otherwise I’m lost all over again.”


End file.
